Kissing Watson
by UnbrokenLoyaty
Summary: There's a "selective" group out there, a group that consists of those who have kissed one John H. Watson.


**Kissing Watson**

There's a "selective" group out there, a group that consists of those who have kissed one John H. Watson.

* * *

**Mrs. Watson – Sunshine**

Mrs. Watson clearly remembers the day Johnny went to school. His tousled thatch of hair peeked up out of his puffy green jacket, just visible over the curve of his backpack. Having already said goodby once, Mrs. Watson was watching little Johnny make his way towards the crowd of his future classmates. The sight of his determined little stride sparked something. It felt like the end of something important. With a sudden rush she scooped him up from behind and spun him up and around to face her. Johnny giggled that high tinkling laugh of his as he tried to push away her face.

"Mommy, stop silly!" he repeated in between her frantic kisses that smothered his face.

All too soon her little Johnny-boy would grow up and kisses form mom could no longer be quite so welcome. That was a day she wished would never come.

Kissing Johnny was like tasting a bright ray of summer sunshine. He was all joy, sweetness, steady warmth, and innocence. Mrs. Watson was certain that the day Johnny stopped wanting "mommy's" kisses she would have lost the brightest piece of warmth that her life had ever been blessed with.

**Lucy – Flying**

Lucy had been a bright girl, full of imagination and good humor. However, adolescence had been very isolating for. Her weight outcast her from the popular kids and her second-hand clothing from most of the rest. School may have continued to be hard for Lucy if not for her last name. As a Wagner, her seating arrangements landed her next to the Watson boy.

By now Lucy can't remember him too clearly, but he was nice. Watson had always had a smile for her. She does, however, remember quite well the last day of school, when she finally got up the courage to talk to him.

Just before he could leave for summer she had grabbed his hand and stuttered out, "I like you," while blushing bright red.

Before Watson could say anything, she had pecked him on the cheek and run. Watson's family had moved that summer, but Lucy still remembers how, in that brief moment, her lips on Watson's cheek had felt like flying. It was as if Watson was a warm gentle wind that held her aloft while she embraced her own wings.

While Lucy never met Watson again, she remembers how the success of kissing him gave her the courage to fly on her own, to take a chance on what she wanted.

**Miranda – Ice cream**

Miranda has lived a quiet life. She has her house, her husband, two kids, and a dog (that she would dearly love to have disappear). She's always been one to appreciate the simple things. If asked about our dear Watson she could regale you with their senor year romance.

Her favorite story is of their first kiss during the summer they met. They had a normal couple of dates and had planned on a night at the carnival, but half way there Watson convinced her to take a side trip across some fields. They ended up spending the night walking on stone walls and counting stars.

Watson had walked her home and given her a goodnight kiss. It had been awkward, as each of them tried to figure out where their noses should go, bumping and bumbling along. Then, with a tilting of heads, everything lined up.

It wasn't the kiss that Miranda eventually fell in love with and married, but it was a kiss that promised so much. Kissing Watson was like ice-cream on a Sunday night. It was sweet, somehow nostalgic, and just fit. It also felt like a special treat that needed to be preserved, lest it loose all it's value.

Secretly, Miranda is glad that they broke up to attend Universities. Somehow, keeping their kisses limited like that seems like the only way to leave them as that special treat.

**Kelly, Donna, and Blake – Pig-tails, Playing Chicken, ****A ****T****ackle**

Those in our group from his University years number less then one might think. Only three people got to kiss Watson during this time, and under three very different circumstances. If you were to ask Kelly, Donna, and Blake about Watson you would get three different stories.

Kelly dated Watson for her first two year at Uni. They met through a mutual friend, Joshua. Kelly remembers Watson because he was nice, nothing special, but genuinely nice. They saw movies, studied together, and thoroughly annoyed their friends. Their dates always felt like the early stages of any other romance. There was always a playful banter, sly glances (that each secretly hoped the other saw), private smiles, and this will-they-won't-they dance to holding hands.

Kissing Watson always involved the perfect balance of laughter and tenderness. Each moment was light hearted and slightly charged. He would do this thing where at the end of a kiss he nipped her bottom lip before giving her one last peck. Kissing Watson always felt like pulling braids and holding hands. There was an innocence and secret thrill to it.

While they drifted apart, Watson taught Kelly what it was like to find love in friendship, and both Joshua and her would love to thank him for that one day.

The second person to kiss Watson at Uni was Donna. Donna was, is, and (God willing) always will be something of a flirt and thrill seeker. Watson was one of her favorite "boys." All of Donna's boys were good friends, pub goers, and jokers the lot.

Watson was fun though. There was an edge to their times. Sharp smiles in class, daring fingers during drinks, and always the promise of no-strings fun. Watson was the guy Donna would call up when she wanted someone who would egg her on farther; once they had a contest to see who would stand the closest to the edge of the rooftop (Donna lost).

Oh, and the kissing! It was all teeth clacking (just thing side of drawing blood), fingers that threatened to bruise, and a touch of hair pulling. Kissing Watson was like playing chicken on the A3; all danger, bravery, and stupid recklessness.

Out of all her boys, Donna remembers Watson as the most fun, but also the easiest to say goodby to. Kissing Watson was amazing, but one day it would have killed her.

Blake 'the 8" is number three in this group. If you ask Blake about J. Watson, amidst being regaled about his glory days on the rugby team, he will tell you about how Watson was a solid guy; sturdy, fast, surprisingly strong for his size, and mad as a hatter. Mostly Blake will talk of Watson in terms of the wonder of their team, but he may just tell you of team pub nights, ribbing one another, and a good friendship. If you really know Blake, you might be lucky enough to get the story of February 6th out of him.

The team had celebrated at the local pub and Blake and Watson had wondered off in the same direction at the end. High on their own success and a wee bit tipsy, they leaned in. Blake swears Watson moved first but he still can't be 100% sure.

Either way, Watson breathed, "I don't mind," and chapped lips, still bitter with hops, met.

It was just that once, but Blake still remembers how kissing Watson tasted like cheap bear and felt like making the best tackle of your career. It was thrilling, adrenalin filled, sweet with victory, and somehow the most masculine display of power he ever felt.

What Blake loves best is that Watson let him laugh it off. They stayed teammates and friends. Still, sometimes, when he's prone to introspection, Blake wonders what might have been if he had followed that teasing smile back home, instead of slapping Watson's back and heading back to his own shared flat.

**Gertrude, Ami, Tori, & Kitty – Rebellion, A Tidal Wave, Home, Sand and Wind**

We're all aware that "Three-Continents-Watson" was less than single during the time he served queen and country. Perhaps what may be unexpected is that the members of our elite group that originate in this period of his life number only four: Gertrude, Ami, Tori, and Kitty.

Gertrude comes from a rather serious and traditional German family. Most of her life was spent focused on meeting her parents high expectations, but at 26 her life took a turn.

She had found herself feeling hemmed in and desperate to carve out a piece of her life for herself. At the insistence of some classmates, she agreed to a harmless night of flirting with some of the new men from the overseas military bases. There she met one Watson, RAMC. He was the perfect fit for her plans; fun, smart enough to not be boring, and so very deliciously _British_. The very sight of such a man in cohorts with their daughter would have been enough to make Gertrude's parents foam at the mouth. Best of all, Watson posed no threat to her future plans, both of them knew that one day he would be transferred. If prodded, Gertrude would mark Watson as the moment she struck out for herself, in a first step of passive-aggressive defiance.

One day Watson looked up and (in flagrant disregard of all expectations) Gertrude kissed him. Kissing Watson was like concentrated rebellion. Even the height difference was divine. Watson would tip up to meet her. Gertrude felt in control and powerful when leaning down into the smaller army doctor.

Looking back, their time wasn't the best Gertrude has ever had, but it was singular in that it allowed her to blossom. Kissing Watson was the start of her own journey. It was a journey that she directed as she became the confident person she is today.

Ami only kissed Watson once. She was in Tokyo for her sister's birthday party. If asked about Watson, Ami will admit that by all rights she shouldn't even remember the man, but he stuck with her.

Ami had not been fond of the idea of making a fool of herself on the club floor like the others and had settled down to sulk at the bar. She remembers how she had been startled and angered when she was nearly knocked off her chair. After apologies and a frankly ridiculously adorable smile, she had found herself in a deep discussion with a young British soldier on leave.

As the night continued, her group grew rather boisterous and teasing. They regularly dropped by the seat Ami had glued herself to. She became rather put out by their constant remarks on her single status and curmudgeon ways. When most of her group had stopped for drinks and invasive remarks, Watson winked and pressed in for a rather drawn out kiss.

Kissing Watson had been unexpected and like a tidal wave. His presence drew up, crashing over her – warm and persistent – before rolling away as he withdrew. He gave one more exaggerated wink and "click" as he sauntered away and out of the club. Ami remembers the girls' sequels and whistles, but mostly she remembers how that kiss from Watson made her feel like maybe she was something worth desiring.

Tori served in an active combat unit deployed to the Middle East. She first met Captain Watson when he offered aid to one of her own. They hit it off as much as one can in those circumstances. The two found their paths crossing several times and, after some mess-hall meetings and chats over vile MREs, struck up an on-and-off relationship. It wasn't really dating, but when they found themselves together, they basked in each-others comfort. It was odd perhaps, but it helped keep them sane (for a while).

Tori mostly would tell someone about how Watson was a brother-in-arms and a balm against the bleak landscape of the Afghan desert; but if you talked long enough (and ordered her enough pints) she might just tell you how she clung to their meetings, because kissing Watson was like being home, all tea and winter evenings by the fire. In a place so far from all that she love, Watson would speak with the dialects of a world she dreamed of. Pressing into that mouth, she imagined that she could consume those sounds, tasting family and country lanes.

The only regret Tori feels about the end of her tour is that she would be leaving Watson without someone comfortable to speak hope and home into his breath as he had always done for her.

Kitty met Watson in Kandahar. The less said about the circumstances the better for everyone. Suffice to say, a joint operation between US forces and the tea-drinkers had wound down. Still grinning from the adrenalin, Kitty had all but dragged the Watson "boy" (cute nose and sexy as hell accent) off to work off the rush. That night was full of laughter and exploration.

Surprisingly, what Kitty remembers best is that, even at the height of their actions, kissing Watson had felt like the grit and bite of the sandstorms. Somehow Watson tasted like hot dry earth and every taste-bud on his tongue felt like the drag of sand across exposed skin. It was the exhilaration that Kitty had found herself so addicted to and she reveled in it.

The "Watson night" is one she remembers fondly, and every so often she wonders what became of the man; whether he made it home or joined so many others as part of the raging deserts he had so reminded her of.

**Sarah – The Rabbit Hole**

If you ask one Sarah Sawyer, MD, what it was like being with Dr. Watson, she'll most likely start by telling you it was the most fun and simultaneously most terrifying romantic experience of her life. Murderous Chinese gangs, mad flatmates, and explosions made up one half of the relationship, but the other half was inside jokes, intense flirting, laughter, and genuine companionship. You never knew what the day would be like.

Dr. Watson dated like he kissed; and kissing Dr. Watson, it was like falling down the rabbit hole. When Sarah kissed Watson, nothing was sane and yet it all made perfect sense. There was surprise and patterns. There was danger and safety. Each kiss lured her on to follow the trail of kisses (like a white rabbit) further into this mad romance. Sarah was always left feeling like she was tumbling head over heals, with no idea what was normal and what was not.

But, enough was finally enough. A disastrous trip to New Zealand and the two parted as friends (if only for her sanity). For all the fun and thrill Watson brought, Sarah knew she had to move on. After all, at the end of the day, Alice always went back home.

**Cassandra "spots" – A Roller Coaster**

If you ever ask Cassandra about Mr. Watson, be prepared for a lengthy conversation that ends up nowhere (for the most part). Cassandra met Watson through mutual friends. He seemed nice enough and they dated for a (very confusing) while. Cassandra was never sure what to expect with Watson, half the time he seemed all in, the other half (when Sherlock Holmes came-a-calling) it was like she ceased to exist.

Kissing Watson wasn't much different; it was like riding a roller coaster. There was a slow build and then a terrifying series of passionate and leisurely thrills all jumbled together. Also, Cassandra could never seem to gauge just what Watson's mood was until halfway through a kiss (the man could make a killing playing poker!). When she expected passion she may get distracted, joy – peace, warmth - melancholy, and ,just to throw a wrench in the works, sometimes a passionate moment would _be_ passionate. Also, kissing Watson, just like a roller coaster, could come to a sudden and unexpected stop (texts were the bane of their short relationship.

Cassandra had always been more of a carousel girl (steady and safe). Needless to say, things didn't last. Besides, that hideous flatmate called her freckles _spots_!

**Nina "nose" – A Hurricane**

Nina does not remember Watson fondly. Oh, he was sweet enough at the outset and had just enough dangerous history to appeal to all her sensibilities. Even the idea of nurturing the wounded veteran had been attractive. Then she tried to have a relationship with the impossible man.

He was closed off from the truly personal and left a wake of destruction amongst her closest friends. If he hadn't been such and uncontrollable force, they would have broke up much sooner. See, kissing Watson was like riding a hurricane. There was so much power and movement. The fuzzy jumpers and wrinkled face hid an untameable whirlwind. Watson seemed to always be pressing toward the next goal – never giving, normally sensible, Nina the chance to think everything through. Somehow, their nights out never ended the way she had scripted them if his lips got anywhere near her skin.

The problem with kissing a hurricane is that the calm of the eye lets you realize just how much wreckage the next portion is going to bring. Nina kept a solid mile distance and a phone between them when she called it quits. She never did get him to walk her dog.

**Jeannette – Striking A Match**

Considering how often, and vehemently, her friends disparaged Watson's boyfriend potential, it was something of a miracle that Jeannette stayed with him as long as she did (or to the unobservant it was). If you can get Jeannette to be honest, Sherlock Holmes' comment on that disastrous Christmas eve was the center of her attraction to Dr. Watson.

Jeannette knew that people considered her boring and her job as a teacher uninteresting (though most were too polite to say it aloud). Dating Watson was _not_ boring (even at it's worst). Watson just seemed to draw interesting things to him. Even kissing him was interesting.

Kissing Watson was like striking a match, all pressure, spark, and flame. Like a match, a Watson kiss had a potential directly proportionate to its surroundings. It might be gentle and guiding, like lighting a candle. Add a hug and it was warm and comforting, like a hearth fire. If he had just gotten back from a case, the kiss would have an edge of danger and quickly became overwhelming. A case was like dropping the match in a dry forest and letting the flames run wild. No, kissing Watson was _never_ boring, but it was also never solely hers. Nothing proved this more true than Sherlock Holmes. He was the wind to Watson's fire. He might feed the flames, but one pass of him was enough to blow out the match before it ever caught.

Kissing Watson just wasn't enough to ignore the fact that Holmes would always be so much more important to him than her.

"**Mary" – The Secret**

"Mary" can't tell you her story of John Watson anymore, which is a shame, because she is one of the few that ever truly got to know him. When Mary met John, he was at his most broken yet and she was just trying to hide from it all. They fell together – not with ease by any stretch – like two broken pieces of glass; or maybe it was like steel and steel. At that point he was not unlike a cold but steady dawn after the darkest night. She was his best thing (his salvation after SH) and he was her bright hope. He was the cliched promise, hope, and redemption, but also seemed to crave all her sharper edges. Even after the lies, they still fit. Sherlock only made the fit better. For Mary, Sherlock just made him better. Between herself and Sherlock they could keep John Watson supplied with the love and danger that made him so gloriously mad and controlled – like a dagger in a knitted sheath.

Mary kissed John Watson as the thing she would kill for, because kissing John Watson was like discovering the most important secret of her life. Every kiss showed Mary a little more about him, her, and them. They kissed a love of danger. They kissed with sarcasm. They even eventually kissed in celebration of Sherlock's brilliance. They also kissed a few times with tears and desperation, a sharing of pain and impossible loss.

Mary could have kissed John Watson for all eternity. She certainly tried to. Kissing John Watson had been like discovering the most important secret of her life, and Mary made sure to take it to her grave.

**Sherlock – It Was Simpler And More Complex Than Everything Else**

If you want to know what Sherlock thinks about one Doctor John Hamish Watson, you better be extremely specific (because he damn well will be). Even then you may have to wend your way through his monologuing.

Sherlock can tell you the exact process involved in kissing John.

_At the moment of a rise in attraction John's pheromones will begin to invade the air. The autonomic nervous system tells the dialater and sphincter muscles to move the iris tissues, resulting in pupil dilation. Heart rate, breathing, and saliva production increases. Distance between their bodies will be reduced to 15 centimeters. The curve of palm and fingers will rest on the upper portion of John's trapezius muscle. Eye contact in\s maintained. Lips are pursed and push outward by the application of suction to their own closed mouths. At this point John will lick and bite his lower lip. Now is the time to lean in and downward. The rectus capitis muscles will flex and contract as they work to tilt the head, accommodating for noses. This combination will result in contact between sets of stratified squamous epithelium. Pressure will usually last from 2-5 seconds, during which time breathing is sometimes forgotten. Occasionally mouths open and contact is repeated. Teeth may graze each-other and tongues can meet or explore the rugae and hard palate and toy with the buccal frenulum. A varying mixture of compounds (such as H2O, lacto peroxidase, salivary amaylase, cystatins, bicarbonate, lingual lipase, mucins, NaCl, and histamines) will be exchanged. Eventually, pressure is lightened, lips relax, air enters the mouth, and a "smacking" sound fills the air (competing with the harsh sounds of ragged breaths). During this process blood vessels dilate and oxygen intake increases. Oxycontin, dopamine, and serotonin flood the system. As adrenaline and noradrenaline begins to rise, serotonin levels drop. Amphetamine and plenylethylamine are also released. _

However, if you had the opportunity to sink into Sherlock's heart (metaphorically), you would find a different (though no less detailed) set of categories. When Sherlock kissed John he experienced a series of things. Just a few of these included:

Peace, a moving space of warmth, gently covered blades, the potential of strength and teeth and death – held back by the unfailing promise of devotion and care, crime in London and war in the Middle East, Baker street, crooked knockers, a live connection that somehow soothes and sharpens, a conduit for brilliance and the observer.

It was overwhelming and comforting in turn, like finally being whole.

But if you ask, Sherlock will simply say that kissing John was like kissing _John_.

And perhaps, that statement is the complete truth.


End file.
